


internet crushes lead to accidental all nighters lead to smushy boyfriends

by bakrstreetboys



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, First Kiss, First Meeting, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Late Night Chats, M/M, Maybe angst, Sherlock is gay, They're really adorable, Virgin!Sherlock, a lot of fluff, both at uni, i have absolutely no clue what im doing with this, john is an aesthetic dude, john's bi as heck, lots of hugs, maybe smut, meet on tumblr, sherlocks a complete fanboy, sherlocks a nervous wreck, soppy quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakrstreetboys/pseuds/bakrstreetboys
Summary: 3:18whitetailedbumblebee: Hello. It's likely you won't see this, but i wanted to thank you.3:23OrdinaryMinds: well ur welcome, but whatever cld u have to thank me for?3:34whitetaliedbumblebee: wow I didn't think you would reply I'm slightly in shock.3:35whitetailedbumblebee: your blog gave me the courage to come out to my parents.3:37OrdinaryMinds: oh my god actually?! uactually have no clue how happy that makes me





	1. 'when you meet someone special, you'll know. your heart will beat more rapidly and you'll smile for no reason'

**Author's Note:**

> firstly none of these quotes are mine i found them all on the internet 
> 
> secondly i hope you enjoy this tooth rotting fluff 
> 
> thirdly this is utter shit and i wrote it at 3am but ENJOY

It was precisely 2:46am. The moon was hidden by a blanket of dark clouds, the the constellation of stars that usually freckled the sky were hidden from sight. If the information was relevant, perhaps Sherlock would have memorised the names of those stars. Instead, the dark haired boy was sprawled out on his bed, shirtless due to the sticky heat of June, but with a blanket checked over his legs - it wasn't warm enough for full nudity yet. His head was propped up by multiple pillows, and a black laptop sat haphazardly in his lap. If it wasn't a ridiculous time in the morning (Sherlock's brain tended to switch off after midnight), the young genius might have been worried for his posture. Wrist beginning to cramp after hours of mindless scrolling, Sherlock repositioned; he ended up sat with his back against the head board, and his legs now half in, half out the blanket. It was one of those nights. Too warm to get any proper sleep, and a day of nothing that demanded a night of something. Which is why Sherlock Holmes (who had a paper due in 6 hours on the ubiquity of the ecliptic) was admiring the blog of one John H Watson (or OrdinaryMinds as he was known on tumblr). Sherlock had stumbled upon the account months ago, and since then was an active follower of it. John was an immensely interesting person, and this was reflected in the content of his blog. Said content was mostly quotes which encouraged Sherlock to get his fine ass out of bed in the morning, or news stories which got his blood boiling. A few pastel pictures thrown in - and that was John's blog. Even having yet to speak to him directly, Sherlock felt like he knew John surprisingly well. He was an avid rugby player with dreams to become a doctor. He was very interested in politics, and found his reactions to certain people informative, and respectful. John was a man who got angry quickly, but knew how to control it. He loved the beach, but not quite as much as his own room (Sherlock agreed with him there).  
Sherlock had a certain respect for John that he had for no one else, because even without having spoken to him, John had encouraged him to finally come out to his parents. As he'd suspected, they'd been supportive and completely accepting, but John had given him the courage to make that leap. John was bisexual, and only out to those who followed his blog, and Sherlock believed he would have nothing more to wish for if he could help John in the same way the latter helped him.  
Sherlock awoke that morning with his laptop uncomfortably digging into his chest, and a harsh ringing that could only be his alarm. The experience was far from new, but the curly haired boy defeated it all the same. Tongue heavy in his mouth, and his joints aching like he'd run a marathon, Sherlock stumbled half blindly into the adjoining bathroom. A rushed shower and 3 cups of black coffee later, Sherlock and his outrageous bedhead left his shared house.  
Having just reached the coffee shop (A Spoonful Of Sugar) after his last lesson of the day, Sherlock fumbled with his bag as he stuttered out an apology to the woman at the counter. Tapping her fingers impatiently, she watched on as the flustered boy in front of her dug around in his pockets for his wallet. Upon finding it, he practically threw the coins onto the counter, picked up his paper cup, and managed to exit the ship swiftly, sans any further embarrassment. He'd planned to sit in the cafe for a while, but, not able to face going back, Sherlock now sat on the brick wall outside the library. It wasn't cold, and yet his knuckles were white against the cup, his breath came in short gasps, and if he wasn't in public, the tears threatening to spill would be tumbling down his cheeks. Drink now cold, Sherlock gulped it down, before chucking his cup on a nearby bin, and rushing home, his eyes on the pavement.  
Before his bag had even hit the floor, Sherlock was already grabbing his laptop, still open, with OrdinaryMinds displayed on the screen. Soft colours made up a pixelated image of the most beautiful sunset Sherlock had ever seen. Pinks and oranges and yellows sat upon a calm sea, and a single daisy took centre stage. Held by a small, calloused hand with smudged turquoise polish, the flower always managed to calm Sherlock down, and before long, Sherlock was witnessing his own sunset, the events of the day forgotten.  
Maybe it was because tonight was particularly warm, or because of the coffee incident earlier today, or because it was 3:18am, or maybe there was no reason at all as to why Sherlock decided to message John H Watson that morning.  
After 4 minutes, Sherlocks fingers were itching to delete the message, and he was about to continue with his night as he usually would, when his laptop pinged obnoxiously into he silence. 

3:18  
whitetailedbumblebee: Hello. It's likely you won't see this, but i wanted to thank you. 

 

3:23  
OrdinaryMinds: well ur welcome, but whatever cld u have to thank me for?

 

It took a good 10 minutes for Sherlock to form a coherent reply for three reasons. Firstly, he was not prepared for a two way conversation to ensue with his idol at ridiculous o clock. Secondly, he now had to explain the coming out thing and he doubted John would want to hear about it. And thirdly, John has replied. He had replied. He now officially knows of Sherlocks existence, and he replied. 

 

3:34  
whitetaliedbumblebee: wow I didn't think you would reply I'm slightly in shock. 

3:35  
whitetailedbumblebee: your blog gave me the courage to come out to my parents. 

3:37  
OrdinaryMinds: oh my god actually?! uactually have no clue how happy that makes me 

Sherlock couldn't help the blush that spread quickly over his cheeks, and he threw the blanket off the rest of the way, sitting up slowly, careful not to push the uncomfortably warm laptop off his bare thighs. 

3:40  
whitetailedbumblebee: it wasn't really a big deal, I knew they would be fine with it, but you helped me actually tell them 

3:42  
OrdinaryMinds: wow that's. u basically saved my evening 

3:43  
whitetailedbumblebee: well technically it's morning 

3:43  
OrdinaryMinds: finE morning. 

3:44  
OrdinaryMinds: idk if u fell asleep but i gotta ask,, what's behind ur user?

3:47  
whitetailedbumblebee: it's a type of bee 

3:47  
OrdinaryMinds: yeah no shit

3:48  
whitetailedbumblebee: it's my favourite type of bee 

3:49  
*whitetailedbumblebee sent a picture* 

 

Every time his laptop pinged, Sherlocks cheeks grew pinker; he blamed it on the ridiculous heat of the room. They chatted for hours, and only stopped when warm orange light began to filter through Sherlocks blinds. 

5:18  
whitetailedbumblebee: I don't know what time it is for you but I've got to leave for class in 2 hours. 

5:21  
OrdinaryMinds: shit me too 

5:22  
OrdinaryMinds: it was worth it talking to u though 

 

And Sherlock fucking melted. His fingers shook as he typed out a reply, the blush that adorned his cheeks now spreading down his neck. 

5:24  
whitetailedbumblebee: you're the sweetest wow 

5:26  
OrdinaryMinds: i mean it's hard not to b when i'm talking to the cutest being on the planet ;) 

At this point Sherlock definitely didn't let out a high pitched squeal, and he definitely didn't spend a minute flapping his hands around. And that's definitely not the reason why John sent him another message before he could reply. 

5:29  
OrdinaryMinds: and btw i live in london so it's ridiculously earlier for me too 

5:30  
whitetailedbumblebee: ah me too!

5:31  
whitetailedbumblebee: I know we don't really know eachother, but is there any chance you'd like to meet up? 

John didn't reply, and Sherlock began to panic slightly. Was he too forward? In Sherlocks minds they've known eachother for months, but they've only been talking for a few hours. What if John thinks he's creepy? Or weird? 

5:51  
whitetailedbumblebee: look I'm sorry. just ignore i said anything 

6:03  
OrdinaryMinds: sorry i have swimming in the morning and i had to catch the bus! 

6:04  
OrdinaryMinds: but seriously id love to meet up with u

Despite the fact that Sherlock had gotten absolutely no sleep that night, he practically skipped the short distance from his shared house to the science block. A thermos of coffee in hand, and his familiar satchel slung over a shoulder, Sherlock couldn't keep the sweet smile off his face pretty much all day. He was giddy in the knowledge that he would be meeting John H Watson (aged 21) in less than a week.  
They had discussed much throughout the early hours, Sherlock now knew that John loved to read, and his favourite book was 'To Kill a Mockingbird'. Sherlock knew of John's older sister, and Johns adorable dog named Harley. Chin thoughtfully resting on nimble hands, Sherlock tuned out the drawl of his physics professor, and allowed blissful thoughts to enter his bored mind. Him and John holding hands as they walked Harley through a green field. John being roughly pulled ahead, his arm straining against the lead. He imagined them both in his room, hot due to the increasingly warm day, watching ridiculous youtube videos together, on each others arms. They would go to the beach for a picnic of custard creams, cheesy bread, posh crisps and strawberries. They could paddle in the sea, and Sherlock would sit on the rocks, taking hilariously adorable photos of John that he would forever treasure.  
These thoughts were rudely pushed from his mind with a harsh voice. It was followed by snickers from his classmates, and Sherlock felt a flush creep up his neck as he took the telling off from his professor. But for once, humiliating tears didn't cloud his eyes, and his hands remainder relatively still, almost free of the tremor they adopted when he was nervous. Simply ducking his head slightly, Sherlock spent the rest of the lecture in a sort of trance.  
When it came to the two hour long break he had between lectures, Sherlock ducked into A Spoonful Of Sugar, and only stammered slightly when he ordered his drink from the same person he fucked up in front of yesterday. Taking his favourite seat next to the window, Sherlock drew his laptop from his bag, and loaded up tumblr. This was the part of his day he would usually devote to stalking John's blog for an hour, and looking at similar pages, enjoying the calming images and quotes which always made his day. Scrolling through John's posts from this morning, his heart fluttered when he came across John's morning quote of the day. He hasn't had time to check that morning before he left, and when he reads the whole thing, he nearly chokes on his coffee. 

 

'Important encounters are planned by the souls long before the bodies see eachother.'

A warm feeling has Sherlock messaging John immediately, and he doesn't think his thumbs have ever flown faster on the keypad. 

1:24  
whitetailedbumblebee: I've been thinking about you all day, pretty sure it's your fault I got yelled at for not paying attention in Physics. 

Sherlock drank his coffee slowly as he waited for John to reply. It was that weird time of year where it was slightly too warm for hot coffee, but iced coffee season wasn't really here yet. It was the same time of year where Sherlock would walk down a street and see the same number of people in coats as he did people wearing shorts and flip flops. Sometimes he saw a mixture of the two. He was just admiring a man a hat, scarf and duffel coat with swimming trunks and crocs, when his laptop pinged softly at him. 

1:36  
OrdinaryMinds: aw babe, missing me already? we haven't even met yet ;)) 

1:37  
whitetailedbumblebee: well maybe I would miss you, if I didn't have actual things to be doing 

1:41  
OrdinaryMinds: i am an actual thing u could be doing ;)))

Sherlocks shock took the form of an unexpected gasp, and it took a solid minute of coughing to clear his throat if the coffee that had gone down the wrong way. His face was still red and his eyes where watering slightly as he typed out a tentative reply. This was his first attempt at what people referred to as flirting, and Sherlock was more than glad that he was doing it virtually, otherwise he was sure John would have left by now. 

1:43  
whitetailedbumblebee: well maybe all the other stuff can wait. 

This flirting continued for another 20 minutes or so, twice in which customers or staff stopped my Sherlocks table to ask if he was ok - frankly, he couldn't blame them. His face was warm and probably looked an alarming shade of pink. His hands were trembling slightly and he was pretty sure his breath had gotten quicker too. Each time they asked, he gave the lisa poor excuse of sever hay fever, and turned his attention back to the laptop. 

2:04  
OrdinaryMinds: i just realised here i am flirting with u fine piece of ass,, and idk ur name! 

Sherlock was stumped. Usually, he introduced himself as William, as it was considered a normal and was likely to raise a hell of a lot less eyebrows than Sherlock. As lovely as his parents are, their choice of first name made it all the harder for Sherlock to fit in, so when he started secondary school, he always introduced himself as William. When he'd begun university, he'd taken the time to email every one of his professors to make them aware of his preferred name.  
But, John wouldn't take the piss, surely. There was no way Sherlock could imagine the other making fun of him for his name, and John was the first person he'd ever met (or spoken to) who he trusted to like him for who he is. 

 

2:06  
whitetailedbumblebee: Sherlock. But I normally go by William, it's my middle name. 

2:07  
OrdinaryMinds: well which one shld i call u?

2:09  
whitetailedbumblebee: whichever you want, but if you called me Sherlock you'd be the only one, excluding my family

2:10  
OrdinaryMinds: sherlock it is then. 

Sherlocks grin grew impossibly wider, and it wasn't until John mentioned the test he would have later in the week that Sherlock remembered he had a lecture of his own to get to. He said quick goodbyes to John, spending more time on that than he did returning his cup, shoving his laptop back in his bag and leaving the shop.  
It was late before Sherlock finally got into bed. After John's insistence, the curly haired man had cooked himself a proper meal, complete with seasoning and grated cheese. It has taken him a while to cook; his skills were out of use due to endless nights of no dinner, or whatever was in the freezer. He'd had to go out to the shop and buy ingredients he never normally would, like oregano, and minced meat. Turns out, John's quite the chef, and spent nearly two hours teaching Sherlock how to make the perfect spaghetti bolognese.  
It was a Friday, and John had a rugby tournament early the next day, so it was before midnight when goodbyes were exchanged, and laptops switched off. Despite the heat, Sherlock slept the best he had in months.


	2. 'the magic thing about home is that it feels good to leave and even better to come back'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the train roared through the underground tunnels, Sherlock let his mind wander. The journey from his university in Regent's Park to his parents house in Crystal Palace was only 55 minutes, but in that time Sherlock had thought out several possibilities of how his meeting with John would go. They had arranged to meet in the gardens at Crystal Palace on Sunday (tomorrow), and, as John lived there, he was determined to show Sherlock all around his favourite places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know chapter 2 is way too early for a filler chapter but yknow it was needed and i promise they'll meet in the next chapter :)) 
> 
> as usual none of the quotes are mine,, you can thank google for that. :)

In Sherlocks opinion, the best part of living in London and having insomnia was the sounds of the city. The sounds of the double decker buses rumbling past at midnight. Drunken groups yelling obscenities and smashing bottles at 1am. 2am bought with it the shouts and manic laughter of those drunk enough to still be out. After 3am comes the hour of quiet in which the occasional police siren can be heard. The first hooting of an owl comes at 4, triggering the chorus of birds which are accompanied by increasing traffic as the sun rises.  
Another perk of not sleeping was that he didn't face the struggles of getting up in the morning. After being up all night anyway, it didn't make a difference if he left his bed at 6am, or 11am. Which is why Sherlock looked so very out of place, sat on the rumbling train at 6:03am, fresh faced and smiling. His happiness either spread to his fellow train goers, or deepened the scowls they already wore.  
As the train roared through the underground tunnels, Sherlock let his mind wander. The journey from his university in Regent's Park to his parents house in Crystal Palace was only 55 minutes, but in that time Sherlock had thought out several possibilities of how his meeting with John would go. They had arranged to meet in the gardens at Crystal Palace on Sunday (tomorrow), and, as John lived there, he was determined to show Sherlock all around his favourite places. This includes the bakery which sold the best steak pies in the whole of London, according to John. The park with the tiny little pond that John had pushed his sister into when she was 4. The bench overlooking the gardens where John was sat when he got Sherlocks message (when he can't sleep, John likes to go there to clear his mind). It wasn't a long journey, but Sherlock found himself counting each bench as the train passed them.  
Upon reaching the train station, Sherlock began the walk to his parents house. He could get the bus, if he had the inclination, or a taxi. But he found the stroll relaxing, and enjoyed the quiet streets of Saturday morning London.  
'Shelly!'  
He had barely rung the doorbell to his parents overly large house before his mother, clad in a loose flowery shirt and beige trousers, had her strong arms wrapped around him. Hiding a smile ono her shoulder, Sherlock chuckled at her enthusiasm, and continued to do so as he followed her through the hallway and into the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked goods mixed with cinnamon and nutmeg filled his nose, and nothing could put s damper on how happy he felt right now. Except for maybe Mycroft.  
'Ah, the virgin's home!'  
His drawling voice bought a scowl to Sherlock's face, which remained there as Mycroft ruffled his hair in a patronising manner.  
'Oh fuc-'  
'Boys!' Mrs Holmes interrupted any obscenities Sherlock was about to utter, and the two looked down sheepishly, a blush masking their scowls.  
'Now, Mycroft, Sherlock is only here for a few days, so if you could find it in your heart to be nice for that short time, well, we'd be grateful.'  
'Have to find my heart first.' Mycroft muttered to his feet, then left the kitchen. Sherlock smiled gingerly at his brother, and he could've sworn the older man returned it swiftly before heading into the hallway.  
After accepting a cup of tea from his mother (if he remembers correctly, he's never turned one down), Sherlock took two stairs at a time as he climbed the stairs. His room, unsurprisingly, was exactly the same as he'd left it when he'd visited about a month ago. The last time Mrs Holmes had tidied his room when he was away (Sherlock had been on his first overnight school trip when he was 11), the young boy had cried his eyes dry and refused to eat until everything was exactly as it was before. He placed his rucksack on the peg on the back of his door, and was just setting up his laptop when he heard a soft knock on the door.  
Sherlock sighed as he set his laptop to the side and looked up to see Mycroft entering his room.  
'Look if you're just here to-'  
'I'm sorry about earlier I was- I'm a little stressed.'  
'Yeah no shit, you practically are the British Government.'  
The statement early Sherlock a chuckle from his brother, and Sherlocks own lips curled up into a smile.  
'So, why are you here? I didn't think you were coming for another two weeks.'  
Sherlock paused. It wasn't that Mycroft would have an issue with John, but he was protective, and Sherlock had never really had a relationship before. John and him weren't even together, but his older brother had a tendency to look right through him, and Sherlock had no doubt Mycroft would be able to guess his intentions.  
'I'm, um, I'm meeting someone. He lives near here.'  
'Oh ok. And are you- Do you, um..'  
'We're not together.'  
'But...'  
Mycroft encouraged him to finish the sentence, and Sherlock couldn't help the blush that rose to his cheeks.  
'But I think I'd like for us to be.'  
Mycroft began to head towards the door to Sherlocks room, and had a hand on the door knob when he turned his head.  
'Just, you know, be safe.'  
Sherlock ushered his brother out the room, and returned to browsing tumblr, smiling as his eyes fell upon the sunset that made John's page recognisable. 

10:57  
OrdinaryMinds: wanna meet @ 11 tomorrow? or later if u won't b up?

11:02  
whitetailedbumblebee: oh I'll be up. also Monday is a bank holiday, so um, you could stay at mine sunday night? if you'd like? 

11:03  
OrdinaryMinds: yep sounds good!! my roommates r so loud it'll be nice to sleep somewhere quiet for once 

Sherlock looked around his room. Why the hell did he suggest that? His room was a bit of a mess (if an organised one), and there was no room to fit a mattress on the floor. But, his bed was big enough for two. Knowing he shouldn't assume John would be okay with that, he tried to clear up his room a little, changed his bedsheets for John, and set up a bunch of blankets and pillows on the floor for him. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of sleeping on the floor, but it would be worth it for John.  
The rest of the day was spent preparing for a test he already knew the answers to; tidying his spotless room twice more; ams trying to decide what to wear the next day. So, it came as a relief when Sherlock heard his mother calling him down for dinner. It went the same as it usually did. Sherlock and his brother would bicker, and his mother would reprimand them. His father would ask how university was, and his mother would tell him off for talking about something so dull over the dinner table. He would remain polite, kicking Mycroft under the table whenever he was annoying, and answering his fathers questions with the answers he knew he wanted to hear. He didn't mention John specifically when asked why he was visiting earlier than expecting, but said he was meeting a friend who lived near. Before long, pudding (Sherlocks favourite - Eton Mess) had been served and enjoyed, and he was carrying a warm mug of tea up to his room.  
That night, Sherlock got less than two hours sleep. And so did John. While the moon shone brightly in the sky, the two happily discussed the possible events of the next day. And despite the minimal sleep, when the two met the next morning, it was with smiled that could not be hidden and eyes as bright as the sun that sparkled high above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always comments and kudos are appreciated :)


	3. 'happiness is an unplanned first kiss'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John was just turning the corner before he arrived at the café where he was supposed to meet Sherlock (Risk It For A Biscuit), when he saw him. He was leaning against the fence opposite the cafe wearing a pair of skinny black jeans, and an oversized black tshirt, accompanied by a dark green jacket. John's knees went slightly weak, but he forced himself to continue walking over, and willed his legs not to tremble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so they finally meet!! this fic is going nowhere and there's some other stuff i wanna start soon so i think the next chapter of this might be the last, or there might be a chaoter 5, but anyway hope you enjoy

It was gone 3am and for some reason John was still awake. He'd said goodnight to Sherlock almost two hours ago now, and hoped the other was getting some sleep. He'd said goodnight earlier than usual because he really didn't want to be a complete zombie the first time he met his Sherlock. Just Sherlock, not his Sherlock, yet, he reminded himself. John turned into his front, trying to expel the image of dream Sherlock from his mind.   
When John awoke at 8:37am, he could still see the ebony curls that Sherlock had described to him on the backs of his eyelids. Shoving his hand onto his crotch in a vain attempt to calm his morning wood, John trudged into the shower. The blond haired boy would never admit that he used his special raspberry body lotion that day, or that he spent an extra 15 minutes on his hair, or that he'd deliberately matched the colour of his socks and his jumper. But when 10am rolled around, and John took one last glance in the mirror, he realised that he didn't look half bad. His hair was on the right side of fluffy, falling into his forehead in a kind of cute way. His turquoise sweater was soft and complimented his blonde hair. Jeans, dark grey and ripped at the knees, were rolled up slightly to reveal the socks that matched his socks, and gave way to a his trusty black Vanns that still had a yellow smiley face sticker in them. He looked /good/, and he hoped Sherlock thought so too.   
John was just turning the corner before he arrived at the café where he was supposed to meet Sherlock (Risk It For A Biscuit), when he saw him. He was leaning against the fence opposite the cafe wearing a pair of skinny black jeans, and an oversized black tshirt, accompanied by a dark green jacket. John's knees went slightly weak, but he forced himself to continue walking over, and willed his legs not to tremble. Sherlock was on his phone, his thumb and a forefinger flying over the small screen with the speed of someone who clearly spent a lot of time typing. It was for this reason that he didn't notice John approaching until the other man was right next to him. As Sherlocks eyes flicked up, he barely had a chance to put his phone away before John's arms were wrapped around his waist. His head fit perfectly into his shoulder and John could smell Sherlocks hair and this was /perfect/.   
'I really hope you're John otherwi-'  
Holy /fuck/ that voice. It was deep and sounded exactly like John imagined it.   
'Yes it's John, you knob.' He chuckled.   
They were still standing very close, and would have probably stayed that way if the glittering blue of the café sign.   
'So, as beautiful as your eyes are,' Sherlock blushed from the very roots of his hair, 'I do actually need a coffee so...'  
'Yeah let's, um, let's go in.'   
John decided that flustered Sherlock was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen, and made it his goal for the day to cause that blush as frequently as he could.   
The next time it happened, John had made a show of watching Sherlocks lips as he talked, and enjoyed the story he was telling just as much as he did the blush that crept over Sherlocks cheeks.   
When Sherlock was taking a drink from his peppermint hot chocolate, John ran a foot up Sherlocks leg under the table, and the dark haired boy had turned an adorable shade of pink, and almost choked on his drink.   
The third time it happened, John wasn't even trying. The pair were waiting at the counter to pay for their drinks, and Sherlock had reached into his pocket to get some money, when John firmly placed a hand over Sherlocks pale one, and payed himself, leaving his hand resting there for slightly longer than needed. It left both of them blushing, even more so when Sherlocks fingers interlaced themselves with John's as they left the café.   
It was John's decision to lead them to a small museum that not many people knew about. Inside, it was full of modern and old art, which conveyed the culture of the town throughout the decades. They spent most of their time in there in silence, appreciating the art and reading the stories that accompanied them. But for once in John's life, the silence was comfortable, companionable. And when they left the museum, their hands found eachother again as if they'd never been separated. It was a wonderful feeling to feel so close to someone he hadn't known for that long, but after the walk back to John's house (they could've taken the bus, but had both opted for the walk), he felt as though he'd known Sherlock for years. And when he stepped into his room, he gained an even greater knowledge of his personality.   
The room was smaller than he'd expected judging by the size of the house, but maybe that was just because of the mountain if blankets set up on the floor (clearly there for him). The walls were white and free of posters, save for the framed Sherlock Holmes poster, and a calendar which seemed to have a different sunset for each month. John smiled and thought back to his tumblr page.   
'So, what's up with the sunsets?'   
'I, uh, so last year my anxiety was kind of the worst it's ever really been, and they just help to calm me down? I don't think it's got anything to do with how they look, really, it's more what they symbolise.'  
John sat himself in front of Sherlock on his bed.   
'And what do they symbolise?'  
Looking down, Sherlock hesitated a moment before replying, a smile evident despite his quiet voice.   
'You.'   
John kissed Sherlock.   
It was soft and gentle and lasted no more than 3 short seconds, but it left Sherlocks head spinning and John smiling brightly, pulling back slightly, before pulling Sherlock in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are appreciated:)


	4. 'the first time we met, i knew you'd be hard to forget'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's eyes were wide, and John worried for a moment that he'd made a mistake, but then Sherlock's hands were fisted in his jumper and pulling him in again. This time the kiss lasted longer, but was cut short when an interruption in the shape of Sherlocks mum burst through the door.   
> 'Sweetie, I- Oh!' Sherlock could physically see his mother piecing the evidence together. The crimped in John's jumper, the blush on her son's cheeks, and the deepness of his breath.   
> 'So this must be that 'friend' you're visiting?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> penultimate chapter! hope you all enjoy

Sherlock's eyes were wide, and John worried for a moment that he'd made a mistake, but then Sherlock's hands were fisted in his jumper and pulling him in again. This time the kiss lasted longer, but was cut short when an interruption in the shape of Sherlocks mum burst through the door.   
'Sweetie, I- Oh!' Sherlock could physically see his mother piecing the evidence together. The crimped in John's jumper, the blush on her son's cheeks, and the deepness of his breath.   
'So this must be that 'friend' you're visiting?' Her hand made air quotes as she spoke and Sherlock ran a hand down his face in exasperation. To his shock, John stood up and crossed the room. Offering his hand, he looked the perfect gentleman.   
'It's nice to meet you Mrs Holmes. I, ah, you have a lovely home.'   
Mrs Holmes smiled softly, and, having apparently deemed the young man fit for her son, she turned to leave the room.   
'Good to meet you too, uh...'  
'John.' He supplied.   
'John. Well if you boys need anything, I'll be downstairs.'  
'Yeah thanks mum.' Sherlock hoped he didn't sound rude, but equally hoped that his mother took the hint and left.   
'Oh my god sorry.'   
Sherlock buried his face in his hands, but John just laughed and took Sherlocks hands in his own.   
'Don't be, your mums lovely.'   
Sherlock couldn't help it, he pressed a soft kiss to John's lips. Their fingers interlocked and it was as if there'd been no interruption whatsoever. They stayed like that for a while, just kissing softly, eyes closed and oblivious to the world. The mood shifted when John brought his hand up to tangle in Sherlocks hair. The action caused the latter to gasp into the kiss, and John took the opportunity to tentatively push his tongue into the others mouth and deepen the kiss. When Sherlocks hands came to rest on John's hips, the shorter man lowered them both onto the mattress, one hand still grasping Sherlocks hair, firmly; not enough to hurt, but enough to leave Sherlock feeling as though his brain was suddenly full of cotton wool, and the other braced on the bed. Moving his mouth away for the first time since the kiss began, John began kissing down Sherlocks jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Gasping, Sherlock dug his fingers into John's hips, probably hard enough to leave bruises. The action left John breathless, and he lifted his head to kiss just underneath Sherlocks ear.   
'Sherlock...' John half whined, half whispered. The sound of his name on John's lips seemed to snap something inside of Sherlock, and he ground his hips up to meet Johns. His eyes squeezed themselves shut when John lowered himself onto his elbow, gripping Sherlocks hair harder and kissing him again. Sherlock began to run his hands up and down John's side, and before long slipped his hands under John's jumper, gently running fingertips over toned muscles and soft skin. John broke the kiss for a moment to kneel up and remove his jumper, revelling in the in the look of pure want on Sherlocks face. 

It was 3:42 and Sherlock was trying to stifle giggles as Wade Wilson received a gunshot wound to the asshole. It was the weirdest, but funniest film he'd ever seen. Despite this, John's eyes were trained on the curly haired boy in his arms. The way his eyes scrunched shut when he laughed, and how he bit the tip of his tongue gently between his teeth. John carded his fingers through Sherlocks hair, pulling out all the tangles, and after that was done, he began massaging his scalp softly. He been doing this for less than 5 minutes when Sherlock let out an involuntary squeak and curled his head back.   
'What?' John was giggling profusely.   
'Don't touch my neck it's weird!' Sherlock cringed again, and swatted John's hand away when he reached for his neck again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated :))


End file.
